Cooped Up
by Yankee01754
Summary: Jess has been very sick. The first day he's allowed out of the house absolutely NOTHING goes right and there's nobody around to help him. And it's all the chickens' fault! /g/ This is based, loosely, on a story in the current issue of country magazine.


Cooped Up

By Yankee 01754

Jess Harper was in a foul mood - no make that a f-o-w-l mood. His worst nemesis, so it seemed, were the chickens. During the year that he and Slim had been on their own, after the departure of Andy and Jonesy for St. Louis, they had taken turns with the chickens. He'd had the most success - barring the one laying hen they lost to a hawk - but he was more than happy to turn over the chore of tending to them to Mike Williams - their young ward.

The problem now, was that Mike was away visiting friends on another ranch for the week. Daisy was acting as nurse/midwife for a neighbor's wife and Slim was out on the range somewhere. He'd ordered Jess to stay home and take care of things because the younger man had been sick with a bad cold. He didn't want him out in the weather that was threatening rain or snow before long. Slim wanted his pard to make a full recovery back to the bouncing, energetic, full of fun but serious about his work, young man that he usually was.

Staying at the house meant Jess could mend tack or whittle or any number of things that would keep him out of the weather until the stages came through. Jess was still somewhat pale with a cough lingering on.

It was eight o'clock on a Tuesday morning. Slim had the buckboard loaded with wire, tools and fence posts as well as a lunch he'd thrown together. As the tall blond got ready to leave he said, "Make sure you stay in out of the cold, Jess. Daisy'll have a fit if you get sick again. Chop some wood if you're up to it, or mend some harness, but go inside if it gets too cold. And don't forget to put the chickens inside their coop if the weather turns bad." Looking up at the sky he added, "It looks like we're in for a storm of some kind sometime today but I want to get at the fence repairs - in the east pasture - before the weather spooks the herd right through that gap and onto the road."

Jess grinned at his partner. "Go on, get out of here. I'll be fine."

Slim looked at him dubiously, not quite sure he wanted to leave Jess on his own. Daisy had only given his partner leave to get out of bed, or go out of the house, two days ago. That cold had come perilously close to being pneumonia and Slim didn't quite trust Jess to obey orders and stay inside. However, he had no choice. The fence needed to be fixed before they lost any stock or the stock caused an accident with a stage, wagon or other traveler on the road.

He picked up the reins to the team that was hitched to the buckboard and gave them a little shake. With a wave he drove out of the yard leaving Jess behind to tend to things.

Jess turned his attention to the team he would need for the stage that was due within the hour. He gave each horse a quick, but thorough grooming, and got them harnessed. That done he tied them to the corral fence so that they would be ready when the stage arrived. Then he went inside to make sure there was coffee since this stage would lay over for fifteen minutes.

By the time he was through with those chores he was feeling tired so he sat down for a couple of minutes near the fire until he heard the stage coming in.

Mose Snell, the veteran driver, was in charge today. There was no money on board so he was alone.

"Well, look at here who's back among the living," Mose joked. "Good to see you on your feet again, Jess."

"Very funny, Mose," Jess replied before turning to the passengers. "There's hot coffee on the stove folks. It'll be a few minutes before the stage is ready to leave. Facilities are around the back."

There were three passengers but they all declined the offer of coffee. Fifteen minutes later, they were on their way again, headed for Cheyenne.

Jess tended to the tired team and then went to sit by the fire. Before he even got in the door there was a raucous squawking from one of the chickens. He looked around the yard to find the source of the disturbance and found that Mike's favorite hen had somehow gotten herself tangled up in the wire that enclosed their little yard. Some of it had come loose at the bottom because the wood was splintered. Something - probably a coyote - had been chewing at it. Either that or Mike's dog, Buttons, was responsible. He'd have to make sure to fill that hole, where the animal had been digging, before putting the hens back in their enclosure.

"Figures. I always said chickens were stupid," he grumbled to himself. "If ya wanted that bug so bad why didn't ya go into the yard? That's why I left the door open for ya," he said to the bird as he got her untangled and straightened the wire out where he'd bent it. That done he decided he might as well close the door to the chicken's yard since they weren't going to be smart enough to go in there.

Jess grabbed the hen that had caused the disturbance and walked to the front of the barn where the other chickens were gathered. Putting her down and pushing her toward the rest of the flock he added, "Now get over there with the rest of the biddies before I change my mind about having chicken for supper!"

He started heading for the front porch again only this time the clean laundry caught his attention so he went inside for the basket. While he was there he put the mulligan stew, which Slim had made, on the stove to warm up. Then he went outside and retrieved the laundry kicking at the chickens that got under his feet every way he turned.

"Get outta the way!" he growled. The chickens were really getting to him. The only response he got was some indignant squawks as the chickens closest to him scrambled to get out from under foot.

He put the laundry basket in the main room to be folded later - or maybe not. He sure wasn't going to bother folding his. He didn't care. Slim could fold his own if he wanted to.

The smell of burnt coffee assailed him. He'd forgotten to take it off the stove when the morning passengers had declined to have any.

Preoccupied with cleaning that up, he forgot to keep an eye on his stew and it started to boil over. Quickly he grabbed a towel and took it off the stove, spilling some on the table as he did. After he got that cleaned up he sat down to some lukewarm stew chased down by a glass of milk because he didn't have any coffee made.

By now it was time to get ready for the early afternoon stage heading into Laramie from Cheyenne. That included making coffee and putting out one of the pies that Daisy had left for them. Going outside he got the four horses that would be the replacements for the team coming in. They were quite dusty, having been left to their own devices in the corral for a while. It was late morning - around eleven o'clock and it was getting a little breezy. Dust was flying in his face causing him to cough as he brushed.

He looked up at the sky as the stage came rolling into the yard but decided the chickens would be fine for a while. It was a little overcast but there was no rain or snow falling yet. He'd just keep an eye on the weather to make sure he got them into their coop before it got really nasty.

Dugan, and the shotgun rider, took pity on him, seeing how he was coughing just then and still looked a little wrung out from his illness. They told him to go sit down while they swapped the teams out. Once that was done they headed out, waving to the Texan as they left. Jess then turned his attention to the team they'd just unhitched. As he worked he noticed that it was getting a little colder. He was too busy, he thought, to run into the house to get his jacket so he kept on working.

After he turned the latest team into the corral he decided to go into the barn and work on cleaning, and mending, some harness. Before he did so he walked over to the stall where his beloved Drifter and Galway were stabled. His old horse nickered with delight when Jess approached and nudged him with his nose - hard. He didn't like being left in the barn all day and not going out for a ride. Galway, his young black colt, was just as bad if not worse. To placate them Jess went over to the side of the barn where he had a basket of apples stashed for them. Daisy hadn't yet figured out that he was in part responsible for the lack of apples for baking. When she did he'd have to find another hiding place because it wouldn't take long for her to find his stash and bring them back to the kitchen. The last time his secret stash had been exposed it was Mike who'd found them and taken them back to the house. The time before that it was Slim. Nobody said a word to Jess about it but he knew that _they_ knew why those apples were in the barn, behind the woodshed or hidden in the seldom used bunkhouse.

He chuckled as he gave the two horses the attention they were craving and made sure to give Slim's horse, Rocky, some attention too although the sorrel had only been in the barn overnight - not for several days. After giving the horses their treats Jess got a shovel and went to fill in the hole under the chicken yard enclosure fence. It took him ten minutes to fill in the hole and tamp the ground down properly. When he was finished he went back to the barn to put the shovel away.

As he went to put the shovel away the rack, which they kept the tools in fell over. Jess cussed to himself as he leaned over to straighten it up and put the tools back in their proper places, trying to ensure that the rack was on level ground. In his haste he didn't put all the tools in place properly and one of the heavy rakes, that they used when preparing Daisy's garden plot, fell over. The heavy wooden handle hit him on the right temple causing him to see stars for a minute. When he could see properly again he made sure that the rake was settled in place correctly before leaving the barn. He stopped briefly at the pump to soak his neckerchief and hold it to the lump he could feel forming then he headed back to the house to sit on the front porch. He could hear his rocking chair calling his name. Barely had he settled in it when there was a disturbance among the chickens. A three second hoarse, rasping scream, was also heard as a red tailed hawk, commonly - and incorrectly referred to as a chicken hawk, dive bombed the chickens that were in the yard.

 _Kree-eee-ar_ it screeched as it flew at the hens. _Kree-eee-ar_

"Hey! Get away from our chickens," Jess yelled as he ran toward them.

The bird's top feathers were a rich brown but pale on the underside. It had a streaked belly that was lighter in color and on the underside of its wings there was a dark bar between the shoulder and wrist. Unwisely, but not wanting to lose any of their chickens - and too mad to care that it was foolhardy - he ran at the bird. The bird flew at him and raked Jess' arm with its sharp talons. The scratches were very deep and drew blood. Ignoring the pain in his wrist, and the blood, Jess kept swinging his hat at the bird. It was a lengthy battle but, finally, Jess prevailed and the hawk flew off in search of other prey.

He watched it leave and then turned his attention to the flock. Fortunately the hawk hadn't been able to get any of their chickens because of his quick action. He decided, then and there, that it was time for the chickens to get in their coop before the hawk came back for a second try.

"That's it ladies," he said. "It's into the coop with you. You'll be a lot safer in there with the door closed and the wire above you to stop any more attacks.

He walked over to the chicken coop and opened the gate. He braced it with a rock so it wouldn't close while he worked on getting the flock into their safe enclosure.

His plans for the chickens and the chickens plans were definitely not the same. He tried putting them in the enclosure one or two at a time only to have them come back out as he approached with the next two he intended to confine. Seeing that that wasn't going to work - not without closing and opening and then closing the gate again he opted for putting them into the little building itself. First, though he had to block the little door that the chickens used to enter and exit on their own.

A cold wind was blowing and heavy wet snow was starting to come down. Jess' shirt was soon soaked through,, his hair was getting plastered down and an inch or so of snow accumulating in the yard before he had what he thought was the last chicken in. Opening the door to the hen house he took count and found that he was still missing a couple.

Cussing under his breath he went to the door of the enclosure and let himself out. Once outside he started searching for the missing birds.

Going into the barn he found one of the hens in Galway's stall. The colt wasn't too thrilled about it and Jess had to spend a few minutes calming him down before he took the stray to its shelter. Once inside the enclosure the Texan opened the door to put his captive inside.

Big mistake. A half dozen of the chickens that were inside managed to escape through the crack between the door and the door frame, being much smaller than him. Hastily he closed the door and slid the block of wood, that kept the door closed, down in order to secure the door until he could catch the escapees. This just wasn't turning out to be the "take it easy" kind of day that Slim had planned for his friend.

In the barnyard he managed to snag two of them, took them back to the coop and shoved them inside. He only half noticed that the wood block was looser than it should be and that he'd need to tighten it some day soon or somebody would be stuck.

Finally getting hold of the last of the hens, Jess had the rooster left to get and that was a war of long duration. The weather was getting nastier but the rooster had no intentions of letting Jess get hold of him - even if his harem was waiting for him.

The ex-gunfighter chased that rooster around the yard, in and out of the barn, out of the corral, up onto the roof of the bunkhouse, back down to the yard and finally back into the barn where he got hold of the bird when he stopped to rest on the ladder to the hayloft. He got pecked for his trouble and was sorely tempted to wring its neck so they could have it for dinner but the thought of having to find a replacement that would satisfy Mike, Daisy and Slim quelled that notion in a hurry. He wasn't spending any of his hard earned money on another stupid chicken if he could help it!

"You'd make a good meal, fella, except that I'd have to buy your replacement."

The snow was coming down harder and the wind was picking up. All Jess wanted was to get the rooster inside and get in out of the now nasty weather.

Carefully closing the door behind him, and preventing any further escapes, he started counting. Everything worked out this time. There were no more missing chickens. At the door he reached for the latch only to find that the door wouldn't open. He tried again. Jess wouldn't know, until a couple of miserable hours later, that the wooden block that secured the six-foot door, had slipped down over the crack between the door and the wall of the coop. He was trapped. He didn't dare break the door for he'd have to repair it. He didn't have a knife on him. He didn't always carry it on him and this was one of those times. He decided then and there, that once he got out of this mess, he was going to get himself a pocketknife like Slim carried and always have it in one of his pockets.

Shivering in his wet clothes, hair drippiing down the back of his neck, Jess sat down to consider his option. The last stage had already left. There wouldn't be any help coming from Mose or any other driver.

Daisy might be home any minute but, then again, there was no guarantee of that. Mike wasn't coming home for a couple of days yet. Slim _should_ be home any time now unless it wasn't snowing that hard where he was or he was too stubborn to quit. He'd been pretty determined to get that fence fixed. The cattle had been straying onto the road for a couple of days. There was no way they wanted an accident on account of a stupid cow - or steer - and they didn't want them wandering off to the Dixsons' or any other neighbor.

He sighed deeply. Looking at the chicken's door he briefly considered trying to get out that way but he'd sealed it up so good he knew that it would be a waste of time trying to get it free and the doorway was pretty small. Even Mike had trouble getting through it.

Exhausted from his labors of the day, shivering somewhat and still feeling the effects of that cold he'd had in his chest, he dozed off leaning against the wall near the small door.

************************************************* Slim drove into the barnyard and stopped in front of the barn. It took a few seconds before he figured out that something was decidedly wrong. Where was Jess? He should have come out of the house when the buckboard pulled up at the barn - if not before.

Looking over at the house the blond rancher was surprised not to see any smoke rising from the chimney. He looked over at the front porch and saw that all the chairs were empty. Jess wasn't sound asleep in any of them.

Harness, from what presumbly was the last team through, hung on the fence. Slim picked it up and brought it into the barn expecting to maybe find Jess there tending to harness or one of the horses. Looking around the dim interior he could see that the Texan was not in the barn.

More puzzled than worried at the moment, Sherman unhitched the team and made them comfortable. When he was done he went to the house, entering through the kitchen door where he found no fire in the stove, dishes waiting to be washed, and a pot of cold coffee as well as half the mulligan he'd left for Jess' lunch.

A bit more concerned now, than when he had first driven into the yard, Slim hurried to the bedroom, half expecting to find Jess down with a recurrence of his fever.

"Jess? Are you..." he stopped when he realized his partner wasn't in bed either. "Not in the barn, not in the house, not on the porch. Where could he be?"

Slim went back thtough the house looking for any clue as to Jess' whereabouts. There were no signs of a struggle - just the pot of stew, a cold stove, and the dirty dishes. No overturned furniture, no broken dishes or lamp. Nothing to indicate any signs of a struggle. Thankfully no blood either but still - where was Jess?

He exited the house via the main door. No signs of a struggle on the porch. No bullet holes or broken glass. Slim was getting nervous. Could someone have gotten the jump on Jess and kidnapped him? A bounty hunter with an old wanted poster maybe? He'd just about made up his mind to saddle Alamo and ride into Laramie when he thought about checking the other buildings. There was always a possibility that Jess was in the bunkhouse. He might have gone in looking for something - they mostly used it for storage - and fell asleep on one of the bunks.

"Jess? Jess! Where are you?" the concerned blond rancher went toward the bunkhouse. Opening the door he found no evidence that Jess had been in there - or anyone else for that matter - for quite a while.

The wind was picking up and the snow was coming down harder by now. It obscured any tracks that might have given Slim an idea of where Jess was at.

"Jess! Where are you?"

In the hen house Jess woke up shivering, when he heard Slim call his name. At first he thought he was hearing things but when he heard it again - over the howling wind - he got up and started pounding on the door.

"Slim! In here! Let me out!"

"Jess? Where are you? Let you out of where?"

"I'm in the hen house! The door is stuck! Let me out!"

"The hen house? What the...? 

Slim made his way to the hen house and opened the door. He caught Jess as the younger man stumbled toward the entry.

"Jess! What in the world happened to you? How'd you get trapped in the hen house?"

Jess was a walking disaster area. His clothes were still wet and were clinging to him. He had straw in his hair and stuck to his pants and shirt. His hair was still wet. There was a lump on his head where the rake handle had hit him and he was developing a black eye. His arm, which the hawk had raked with its talons, was still bleeding sullenly and his shirt sleeve was ripped.

Slim struggled to hold back a laugh but valiantly restrained himself when he saw the miserable look on his friend's face.

Closing the hen house door behind him, and securely locking it, he put his arm around Jess' shoulders and steered him toward the house.

"Come on. Let's get you inside, dried off, warmed up and cleaned up. You can tell me what happened while I patch you up."

The taller man slipped an arm around the shorter one's waist and helped him into the house. Once inside he settled Jess in his favorite rocking chair, wrapping the Indian banket, that was draped over it, around him.

That done, Slim took off his hat and jacket, as well as his gunbelt, and hung them up, then went to the fireplace and got a fire going there and one in the stove so he could heat some water to clean Jess' arm with.

Once he was sure the two fires were going good he went into their bedroom and fetched clean, dry clothes and a towel for his friend.

Returning to the main room he said, "Here, dry yourself off and put these things on. We'll put the clothes you're wearing in the laundry." He handed Jess the clothes. While you're doing that I'll get the hot water and something to clean that arm with. Don't roll the sleeve down until I get that arm tended to."

It didn't take Jess long to change. His wet clothes were on the fireplace hearth and he was back in his chair, wrapped up in the blanket when Slim returned with a bowl of hot water, a rag to clean Jess' arm and bandages. He set them down and removed Jess' clothes to the basket of dirty clothes in the kitchen.

Returning to the main room, he rolled up his sleeves and got to work on Jess' arm.

"This looks pretty nasty, pard," he commented looking up at Jess from where he knelt on the floor next to Jess' chair. "What happened?"

"Hawk got me. Was going after the chickens so I started waving my hat. It didn't like it much."

"I don't imagine it did," Slim said. "That was kinda foolish if you ask me."

"Yeah, but I was mad. I wasn't gonna let it get any of our chickens if I could help it." He sighed and rubbed his head as he felt a headache coming on.

"How'd you tet that lump on your head?"

"I was in the barn puttin' back a spade I used. The tool rack..." Jess winced both at the memory and because of the headache, "...the tool rack wasn't sitting on level ground and fell over. I picked it up but I guess I didn't put everything back right 'cause one of the rakes fell over and hit me."

"Poor Jess," Slim tried not to grin. "You've had a bad day."

"That's not the half of it!" the Texan exclaimed. "Hawk went after the chickens, I had a bad coughing spell just before the last stage came in, hen got herself caught in the wire around the hen house, coyote - or Buttons or something - dug a hole partway under the enclosre. That's why I had the spade - I had to fill the hole in that they left so they can't get in. And I had to fix the bottom of the fence 'cause the wire was twisted. It's gonna need straighening and nailing down again."

He continued his litany of woes.

"Every time I sat down to rest for a minute there was something else. I was gonna clean the scratches from the hawk but had to grab the stew 'cause it was startin' to boil over. Spilled some of that and had to clean it up and didn't have coffee for the stage when it came in. Decided to put the chickens in the hen house only when I opened the door to put some of them in others got out and I had to chase them all over the place - especially one hen and the rooster. The hen got into Galway's stall - he didn't like that too much - and the rooster went all over the yard, on top of the bunkhouse, in the corral and into the barn before I caught up with him."

"The snow started before I could get all the chickens in so I didn't have time to get my jacket. While I was chasing them it started snowing real hard and I got soaked. When I finally got all the chickens in the hen house I got locked in and couldn't get out."

Slim finished bandaging Jess' arm, hiding a smile at the recitation of Jess' woes of the day. He took the basin of dirty water and dumped it down the privvy. Then he rinsed the basin out and brought it back to the kitchen. Jess was dozing in his rocker with the blanket wrapped around him again.

Looking intently as the lump on his partner's head, Slim decided that there really wasn't much to be done for it. It would go down in a couple of days. If need be he could go out to the ice house and chop enough to use to help shrink it.

Smiling to himself he went into the bedroom and found the bottle of whiskey they kept, as Jonesey had, for medicinal purposes only. They never drank at home and rarely had more than one or two when they were in town now that Mike and Daisy were living with them. Somehow, the situation - the rough day that Jess had had - warranted the younger man having a dram before turning in.

He shook Jess awake and gave him the whiskey. Jess downed it fairly quickly.

"I had such a good day planned," he moaned. "I was gonna take it easy like you told me to. Mose and the other drivers would help me with the teams and I could sit by the fire peeling vegetables or making kindling or working on harness in the barn. Those dad gummed chickens ruined everything!" 

"Poor Jess," Slim said. "You have had a bad day. But,. as Scottish poet Robert Burns wrote, in _To A Mouse 'the best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley."_

With that Slim helped Jess out of the chair and into bed where hopefully he did _not_ dream of chickens.


End file.
